


If I have to I'll get it done myself

by annnnd_ishipit



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, I guess? a bit at least, M/M, Power Imbalance, Soft boys being soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 10:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16595759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annnnd_ishipit/pseuds/annnnd_ishipit
Summary: It's only when Kyle offers Willy up for trade does he realise that he doesn't have to wait for his agent to give him a contract. He can always do it himself.





	If I have to I'll get it done myself

**Author's Note:**

> Power Imbalance is only slight, comes from working relationship of a GM and a player, it is not referenced in this fic (as a power balance, the actual GM/player aspect is).
> 
> As with all fics of this nature, if you are in it, don't read it (also, what are you doing with your life if you're here?). If someone you know is in it, don't read it. Don't share this outside of fandom places. This is a fictional story, not an accurate representation of the people named. Etc, etc, you know the drill.
> 
> Edited Dec 12 to include updated tweets and information to make this more similar to the actual signing.

“I’m so sorry Will, you know I never wanted to have to do this, but, well, it’s got to a point I have to. I have to start thinking about-.” Willy was sat, alone, as he was most days now, in his Stockholm apartment when his phone started ringing. He’d picked up, expecting it to be Kas, or maybe Mitch, or even Auston. He certainly wasn’t expecting it to be Kyle.

“Kyle, oh my god! Please tell me you’re about to tell me to get on a plane? I’ve missed you so much, holy shit.” Willy couldn’t think of any reason for Kyle to be calling him if not to tell him to come back. They’d both been pretty clear about not calling each other during negations, instead they'd limited their contact to the occasional text.

Kyle’s silence that followed was pretty telling though. He probably wasn’t about to ask him to come home. “You – You haven’t heard?” Kyle was quite when he finally spoke, stuttering in a way he rarely did. Willy could hear the effort it was taking him to ask.

“Hear what?” The last Willy had heard was almost a month ago, after Kyle had come to Switzerland.  His dad had been keen on the meeting, but after seemed to think that the less Willy knew of the negations, the better. He hadn’t been told anything since.

“We’ve asked teams to give us potential trade offers…”

“For me?”

“You have to know, I don’t want to trade you. Not at all. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you a leaf. I really meant it, Willy. I still mean it. But, well…” He trailed off, but it didn’t seem like the end of a thought, more like he’d just run out of the ability to speak.

Willy didn’t even know what he was feeling, just that there were too many emotions that he couldn’t begin to process. He knew he should talk to Kyle more, that there were questions he should be asking, things he needs to say, but he can’t figure out what the hell they are. So instead he asks Kyle for time. Tells him he needs to process this, but he’ll call back in an hour or two when he’s figured it out.

He hangs up, and Kyle lets him go. Somehow it seems that Kyle giving him what he asked for hurts more than being told that his GM, his _boyfriend_ , is about to trade him did.

~~~~~

Willy sat on his kitchen floor for almost 2 hours and just thought. Sure, he cried for a bit, paced for a bit, messed around on his phone for a bit; but mostly he thought.

He thought about how hard these last few months had been. Thought about being so far from Kyle, not knowing when he’d see him next. He thought about how much he hated not being able to call him whenever he wanted. About how much he misses Kyle, how much he wants to see him again, kiss him again, sleep next to him again. And he thought about what it would be like if every day was like that, if his boyfriend was the GM of a rival time. He imagined always having to check if it was ok to call Kyle. Imagined never knowing when he would next get to spend time with him. Imagined always having to make sure they both had solid excuses to be in the same place at the same time. But mostly he imagined not having the little things, not getting to eat dinner with him, not getting to spend evenings together on the couch, not getting fall asleep in his arms.

He thought too about his friends, about moving away from such a great city. He thought about having to pack his apartment up, about having to find a new place. He thought about having to walk into a different locker room, about having to make friends with a group of new guys. He thought about only getting to see these guys, the ones playing without him in Toronto, once or twice a year, and only then if they were lucky and had time to meet up.

He tried to imagine stepping onto a different rink every day, having a different group of fans cheer for him. He tried to imagine pulling a different jersey on, winning a cup with a different logo on his chest. He tried to imagine driving different roads every day, tried to imagine everything a different team would mean, everything a trade would bring.

And he couldn’t. He tried imagining it, again and again, different parts each time. And he failed every time.

So instead he calls Kyle. Kyle picks up almost immediately, expecting the call. “Hey, how’s it going?” His voice is soft, and it calms Willy to hear.

“I’m not mad at you. I know why you have to do it. But I don’t like it.” And Willy’s not lying, he really does understand why, from the business side, it makes sense to trade him.

“I know, I don’t like it either. We’ve tried though, I know we can’t give you everything you’ve asked for, but.” He stops to breathe, swallowing hard, audible even through the phone. “But you’ve rejected all our revised offers, so we have no choice.”

“Revised offers?” Willy didn’t know of any new offers, he thought it was still a stalemate over the old ones.

“The 2 we gave you after we met in Switzerland? The bridge and the long-term one?”

And Willy wants to start crying again. It’s not that he’s all that upset over anything Kyle just said, but it still hurts. Like, yes, he knew neither his dad nor Gross were telling he anything; and yes, he expected Kyle to come back with some new offers; but it still hurts to have it laid out in front out him, nice and clear, just how much no one was telling him.

Apparently his silence was enough for Kyle to guess and what’s happening. “They didn’t tell you, did they?”

Willy goes to tell him that no, no one was telling him anything, but as he opens his mouth, he can’t keep his breathing steady, instead starts softly crying into the phone.

“Hey, hey, Will, it’s ok.” And so, Willy sits, still alone on his kitchen floor, crying to himself, listening to Kyle whisper into the phone, just sweet nothings, with no purpose but to calm him down.

“What – what were the off-offers?” When he finally feels he can speak, his mouth is dry, his breaths still unsteady, his lips stumbling over the words.

“6.8 for 3 years, and 6.6 for 7.” He’s still speaking softly, he’s still talking to Willy as a lover and not as a boss, he’s saying this because he cares for Willy not because he’s trying to persuade Willy to do anything. And somehow that knowledge is enough to give Willy a plan.

“Hey, Kyle. I get that you have to think about trading me, but give me three days? Three days where you don’t even look at the offers? Please?”

“3 days? I can’t promise you that I won’t think about it, you know I have to. But I won’t trade you, I won’t make a decision, ok?” Willy’s plan isn’t very well formed yet but knowing that Kyle is willing to agree to such a thing without even asking why makes Willy sure that he’ll be doing the right thing.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you so much”

~~~~~

When Willy finally hangs up and pulls himself off the ground, its almost an hour later and it’s dark outside his window. He quickly heats up some leftovers for dinner, drags his gear bag over to his front door, and grabs his backpack from his bedroom.

He sits at his kitchen table, alone in the dark, while he eats his dinner as fast as he can. He scrolls through his phone, sends a few texts, checks his email, scrolls through Instagram. When he’s done, he calls an Uber and stands up to wash his plate. He’s done just as the uber arrives, so he grabs his gear and backpack and fights his way down the stairs with the oversize bag, before stuffing it into the trunk of the car.

He phones his dad in the uber, knowing this conservation won’t go well, and not wanting to risk anything.

He listens to the phone ring, half wishing his dad won’t even pick up, half dreading what would happen if he didn’t. It takes five rings, but finally, he does. “Willy?” He asks.

“I’m going home.”

“What? I thought you said you were staying in today; did you go out?”

“No, I’m going home. Toronto.” Silence.

“What? You promised you wouldn’t, don’t you dare! You’ll mess up the negations even more than last time, they’re just starting to go well!” His dad is mad, but Willy is more mad.

“They’re going well? What part of being potentially being traded is ‘going well’?” The car turns into the airport, and Willy drags his bag out, walking into the terminal.

“William! How did you know that? You’ve been talking to Dubas again, haven’t you? I swear to god, you can’t be trusted with anything. Certainly not going back to fucking Toronto. I’m coming over there now, you’re not fucking leaving that apartment until I know I can trust you to follow a simple fucking instruction.” He knew something like this would happen, hence why he left this conservation until last, when his dad could do nothing about it.

“Too late dad. I’m at the airport. I’ve already got my ticket. I’m going home.” And then he hangs up. He walks straight up to the desk, checks his bag in and joins the line for security. He’s going home, and there’s nothing his dad can do.

He knows he should call Gross, but he can’t bare another phone call right now, so instead, he opens his laptop and writes him an email. He finishes it just as his flight is called, he presses send, closes the laptop and grabs his bag.

He walks onto the plane, sits down and gets ready for the flight. But before he goes, he knows there’s one more person he needs to tell. So he takes a photo of his feet and the seat in front of him, leaving no doubt as to where he is. He sends the photo and then turns his phone off. He doesn’t have to deal with anything until he lands. 8 hours of peace until he’ll have to try and get out of this mess he’s just made.

~~~~~

He turns on his phone as the plane is taxiing to the gate at Pearson. He ignores the email from Gross, the 13 texts and 5 missed calls from his dad. He finds the one he’s looking for, and smiles when he reads it.

 **From Kyle:**  
**Wish I could pick you up from Pearson, come here when you land**

He rushes through customs, incredibly glad for his Canadian citizenship, and heads straight to the oversize baggage to get his bag. He grabs it as soon as it arrives, and heads straight outside to get himself an Uber.

The perks of flying into Toronto at 11 pm on a Monday night is that the traffic isn’t too bad, so it doesn’t take long to drive to Kyles. He lets himself up, without waiting to be buzzed up, using the code that he’s known for ages. Suddenly he finds himself stood in front of Kyle’s door, all of the emotions of the last 18 hours, of the last month, of the last 6 months, bubbling to the surface. He manages to knock, manages to listen to Kyle move around instead without breaking down.

But the instant the door swings open and he’s stood in front of Kyle, seeing him in person, in Toronto, it proves to be too much. Kyle reaches for him as the tears start falling, pulling him into his arms, hugging him tight and nudging the door shut at the same time.

Willy drops his bags at the door, lets Kyle guide him to the couch. He sits down hard, hands coming up to cover his face, trying to get himself to calm down. He’s desperately trying to stop crying, before Kyle realizes he’s just a kid, before Kyle decides it’ll be best to just leave, to stop trying with this stupid fucking kid who seems to spend his entire time crying for no good reason.

But instead of doing any of that, Kyle just crouches down in front of him, puts one hand on his knee, uses the other to lift his chin, so they’re looking eye to eye. “Hey, it’s ok. Deep breathes, yeah? You’re alright.”

He’s trying, trying his best to stop crying, but he can’t, he just can’t. It’s like it’s 5 months worth of tears, all at once, and he’s powerless to stop it. But Kyle doesn’t tell me to stop crying, he just pulls Willy forward, to the edge of the couch, and wraps himself around Willy. Kyle ends up with one hand rubbing circles against Willy’s back, the other stroking through his hair, and Willy just tucks his face into Kyle’s neck and cries.

They stay like that for what feels like ages, before Kyle eventually stands up and pulls Willy up after him, tangling their fingers together as he does so. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t break the calm, just guides Willy down the hall and into his bedroom. He gently lays Willy down, strips him out of his clothes before helping him into one of Kyles shirts and a pair of his boxers to sleep in. Once he’s done with Willy, he lays a gentle kiss to his forehead and slips out the room to the bathroom.

Willy knows he should follow Kyle, knows he should brush his teeth, should probably wash his face, maybe even shower. But he’s too tired, both physically and emotionally, to be able to do anything. So he just stays where he is, waits for Kyle to come back.

He’s just about drifted off when he hears movement and opens his eyes to see Kyle shuffling around getting ready for bed. He smiles at him as he walks over to the bed and slides in alongside Willy. Willy feels that there’s so much he should say, but he hasn’t spoken since he got here, and he doesn’t practically want to start now. Instead, he reaches out to find Kyle, slides over even closer, so their legs are tangled together, shoulders pressed against each other.

They’re both facing each other, foreheads tipped against each other, and it’s so easy for Willy to roll over a bit more, so they’re chest to chest, to lean in a little and kiss him. It’s a gentle kiss, neither one is up for anything more tonight. But it’s still full of emotion, it’s everything Willy wanted to say earlier and more, it’s how much Willy missed him, how he loves him. It’s them.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to whisper to Kyle, because it suddenly feels so important that he reminds Kyle. “I love you. I missed you so much, I love you.” His smile is soft, his voice gentle, barely more than a whisper. It’s so quiet he’d be scared that Kyle wouldn’t hear him, except they’re so close right now, there’s no way he wouldn’t.

“I love you too. Please, never doubt that. I love you so much. I missed you every day.” He tilts his head up, kissing Willy’s forehead once more, before guiding Willy down, laying his head against his shoulder. “Love you, Will, so much.”

Willy lays his arm across Kyles' chest, snuggles up to him a little more, and lets his body relax. Kyle brings his arms up, enclosing Willy completely, making him feel at home, safe, in a way he hasn’t for a while now. He closes his eyes, breathes in Kyles scent, relaxing further into the familiar feeling, and falls asleep.

~~~~~

Willy wakes up briefly around 7, when Kyle slides out from under him. He remembers Kyle whispering that he was going down to the rink, that there was plenty of food that Willy could help himself to, and that he’d be home soon enough.

He wakes again when it’s just gone 9, drags himself up and into the shower. He spends a good 20 minutes just stood, letting the warm water run over him, before drying himself off and helping himself to a pair of Kyles sweatpants and warn shirt of his.

He heads into the kitchen and starts the coffee maker while he grabs his laptop from the bag he’d left in the doorway last night. He starts it up and then sits down to read Gross’s email while sipping his coffee. Unlike his dad, Gross isn’t too pissed that he’d spoken to Kyle, nor that he had decided to come back to Toronto. He was, however, pretty pissed that Willy had given him 48 hours to have a contract ready to sign, or he would do it himself.

Willy understood what his dad said, what Gross said, when they had explained to him why they were after 8 million. He understood what Gross said in his email about how being traded would allow him to get that money. But Gross didn’t understand that getting traded meant losing everything, his city, his team, Kyle. Neither of them understood that Willy didn’t practically care if he got 6 million, 7 million, or 8 million. He knew that maybe he should, that while the difference wouldn’t matter now, it might once he stopped playing. But he also knew how much Mitch was making with his ads, and Auston, now that he was starting to do more. He knew that the money could come from other places.

He certainly knew it wasn’t worth losing everything for. So, he’d got Kyle to give him 3 days with no risk of being traded, and he’d given Gross 2 days to get him a contract. And if Gross couldn’t do that, then he’d sign whatever Kyle would offer him.

Willy spent the day doing nothing, sat on Kyles couch, watching Netflix and snapping the team. He was making a point of sending everyone their own snap, so he could watch every person freak out when they figured out that he was back.

It was getting late when Willy started to wonder about dinner, so he was about to text Kyle asking if he should start cooking, when he got a text.

 **From Kyle:**  
**I was hoping to get home early, but someone threatened their agent,**  
**so I’ve got to stay here late and write a contract.**

 **To Kyle:**  
**dont worry, i’ll still be here**  
**wearing ur clothes and eating ur food**

 **From Kyle:**  
**I’m not worried, I know you’re not going anywhere**  
**But that doesn’t mean that I don’t miss you**  
**And that I don’t want to be there with you**

Willy’s smiling to himself as he texts Kyle, opening the fridge and trying to figure out what he’s going to make for dinner.

~~~~~

Willy tried to stay awake until Kyle got back, but the time difference got the best of him, and he was asleep by 10 pm. He didn’t wake when Kyle got back at 1 in the morning, just rolled over in his sleep and made room for him. He did wake as Kyle kissed his forehead before leaving for the day, but only slightly, and Kyle was gone before he was awake enough to realise to what had happened.

By the time he was awake enough to function, once again sat in the kitchen in Kyle’s clothes, drinking coffee from Kyle’s coffee maker, the 48 hours he had given Gross were up. He carefully opened his laptop and opened his email. He knew there were only two possibilities, either Gross had a contract for him, or he didn’t. Either way, Willy would have to put a suit on and go down to the rink to sign something. Either option would also be fine by Willy, so he had no reason to be nervous as he waited for the page to load. But he was. And then there it was:

 **From: Lewis Gross**  
**To: William Nylander**  
**Subject: Toronto Maple Leafs Contract Negotiation**

 **Mr. Nylander,**  
**I regret to inform you that we have been unable to come to a satisfactory agreement with the club that would allow us to go forward with signing a contract. I am aware, given the circumstances you have put me in, that you will likely sign a contract with the club without me as a representative. While I do not believe that doing so is an ideal course of action, as I do not find any of the proposed contracts acceptable, I do believe that all proposed contracts are sound legal documents and do not contain any undisclosed items. I wish you the best of luck in signing such a contract, and hope to be one of your team of representatives during your next negotiation.**  
**Lewis Gross**

Willy reads it over a few times, makes sure he’s understood everything, before reaching for his phone and calling Kyle.

“Willy?”

“Hey, has Gross been in contact with you today?”

“Not today, no. But he did say when we left last night that he wouldn’t be your representative any more…”

“Yeah, it’s just me now.”

“Well, we have a contract or two lying around, wanna come sign one?” Trust Kyle to manage to mix flirty and business, boyfriend and GM, so well. Like, yes, he was technically asking Willy to some sign a pretty major contract that would change his life forever, but he asked the exact same way he asks Willy to stay the night or join him for movie night. Soft. Loving. Caring.

~~~~~

**Leafs PR @LeafsPR: William Nylander meeting today with Dubas and staff to discuss contract. Nylander will not have an agent present. #TMLtalk**

**Leafs PR @LeafsPR: The @MapleLeafs have agreed to terms on a six-year contract extension with forward William Nylander, subject to League approval. #LeafsForever**

** Leafs PR @LeafsPR: The extension has a current season average annual value (AAV) of $10.2M and an out-year (years 2-6) AAV of $6.9M. **#LeafsForever** **

** ~~~~~ **

**Toronto Maple Leafs @MapleLeafs: Welcome back, Willy. #LeafsForever https://youtu.be/nk3u7WlajNs**  
**[Video Description: Video opens on a shot of Nylander being lead down a hallway. Cut to clip of Nylander speaking to the media. Cut back to the hallway. Nylander is lead into a room where Dubas is sitting. He stands to great Nylander. The two hug and exchange pleasantries. Cut to Nylander and Dubas in an elevator. It is clear the two are comfortable around each other, and are happy to see each other. Both are smiling and laughing. The camera follows them out of the elevator and down a hallway. Nylander is seen greeting staff members. Cut to Nylander's equipment in the locker room. Cut back to Nylander speaking to the media. Title card plays.]**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Friedman tweeted last night that Dubas asked teams to submit potential Nylander trades, so obviously I had to write a fic with Willy realising that he might lose his chance to play with the leafs because his agent is so keen on the money, and decides 'to hell with it' and goes to sign himself. 
> 
> Come find me on tumblr: [bisexualnerds](bisexualnerds.tumblr.com)
> 
> Smut? How does one write smut? Who knows? Not I.  
> Endings? How does one end a fic? Who knows? Not I.


End file.
